


in the heat of it all

by waveydnp



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: simon has a nightmare and wakes up to an empty spot in bed where baz should be.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 26
Kudos: 171





	in the heat of it all

**Author's Note:**

> there is one kiss in this fic that could be considered dub con if you squint, but rest assured it’s definitely all consensual

**Simon**

My fearful shouts echo against the walls of the room when I wake up. I’m drenched in sweat, clinging to my sheets so hard I’ve pulled them off the corners of the mattress. I roll over towards the spot where Baz’s bed is pushed up next to mine, desperate for cool skin and the safety of his arms, but all I find is a pillow that smells like cedar. No Baz.

I sit up and throw the covers off, wiping my forehead on the back of my arm. Going back to sleep is out of the question, the nightmarish images in my head still vicious and vivid. I should probably have a shower, but all I really want is Baz.

The window is open. Baz never closes it anymore. Whenever he gets cold he just curls into me and I warm him. I don’t run as hot as I used to without magic lighting a furnace inside me, but Baz says I’m still the hottest bloke at Watford. And probably the world. I always argue he’s confusing me with himself, and then he always kisses me and bites my lip and tells me I’m stupid and I say _only for you_. It’s a whole thing.

I get up and go to the window, sticking my head out to feel the cool air on my damp skin. The moon is out, but it’s just a sliver tonight. It’s too dark to see much of anything, but I know he’s out there. I hope he’s in the Wood and not the catacombs. It breaks my fucking heart to think of him underground, all alone, draining rodents in the place where his mother rests.

He doesn’t like hunting. In fact he hates it. He hates the dark, hates the way it reminds him of his time spent trapped in that coffin. I think I hate it just as much. It makes me feel sick. I’ve told him a thousand times to wake me when he’s thirsty so I can keep him company while he does what he needs to do, but he never does. I’ve tried just staying up all night so he has no choice but to let me tag along, but then he just doesn’t go out at all, and I have to live with the guilt of seeing how pale he is, how hungry he looks all day long.

I know he still thinks he’s a monster, no matter how many times I tell him I was wrong about that. I know he doesn’t want me to see him kill things. And I want to respect that, but I don’t. He’s seen me kill things. He’s seen me at my worst and never took his eyes off me. I want to do the same for him. I want to see him at his darkest so I can look him in the eyes and tell him he’s still good.

I drop my head into my hands, sliding my fingers up into sodden curls. My mind is full of death tonight. The Mage’s, Ebb’s, Baz’s mum’s. All the creatures I slayed without even really knowing why. I reckon I deserve to feel haunted, but it doesn’t mean I actually know how to endure it.

I want Baz. I just really fucking want Baz right now. So I pull on my school trousers, nick one of the jumpers from his wardrobe, shove my sockless feet into my trainers and head down the winding staircase of Mummer’s House to find him.

**Baz**

I’m almost back to Mummer’s when I smell buttery blood and the tang of sweat. He comes out the door and looks around in the dark, and it’s clear that he can’t see me from where I am about twenty metres away. I’d use that to my advantage and give him a startle for a laugh, but his eyes look kind of wild and it’s immediately clear to me that he’s not in any mood to have the piss taken out of.

“Snow,” I call out gently.

He still startles. “Fuck,” he mutters, slapping his hand over his chest. “Baz?”

I close the distance between us quickly, reaching for his hand. He can see me now that I’m right in front of him, and his head tilts up a little so he can look at my face.

“What are you doing out here?”

He tips up on his toes and throws his arms around the back of my neck. His hugs would likely crush the life out of me if I wasn’t made of stone. He buries his face in my neck and I wrap my arms around his lower back.

“Bad dreams?” I murmur, and he nods.

“Just needed you,” he says. He’s nuzzling me, mouth slightly open and damp against my skin, and the warmth of it makes me shudder.

“I’m here.” I slip one hand up the back of his jumper. My jumper, actually. His skin is tacky. I hate that it makes my mouth water.

“I need you,” he says again. “I just want to forget.”

I turn my head to kiss his temple. “I know, love. I know.”

He tries to kiss me then, and I have to twist my face away. His mouth lands low on my cheek near my jaw, and he growls.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “I just fed, Simon. Let’s go up and I can brush—”

He’s grabbed my face and mashed his mouth against mine before I have a chance to get the words out.

“How many bloody times do I need to tell you that I don’t care?”

He waits, though, and I know he’s waiting for me to tell him not to do it again.

I don’t. I grab the back of his neck and kiss him back just as hard. He licks into my mouth and I’m flooded with the taste of him. I’ll die before I tell him, but I like it better when he’s a little unclean. When he’s got morning breath, when he’s been sweating, when he smells and tastes not like soap or toothpaste but like _him_. I think it’s a vampire thing. A base, animalistic thing.

“Simon,” I say, forcing myself to push him away enough to tear my mouth from his. “Simon, hey.”

He’s unphased, pushing his face into my neck and kissing there instead. “I love when you call me that.”

Another kind of animal instinct ripples through me as his teeth graze my skin. I fed a lot tonight, which helps in one way. I don’t want to bite him quite as badly as I usually do.

But I’m full of blood right now, and he’s pressing all of himself up against me and sucking on my throat. I don’t want to bite him, but I do want him.

I slide the hand I’ve got pressed to his lower back down, working them under his pants. Then I squeeze.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

I feel like a complete berk. He’s hurting right now, traumatized, haunted. I should be comforting him. Instead I’m groping his arse and trying not to press my massive erection up against his crotch.

“We should go up,” I say. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“We should.”

**Simon**

Fucking Baz.

That’s what I’d like to do, in whatever way we can manage right here outside the entrance to the dorms.  
I want to, and he clearly wants to, but he still thinks I need him to be soft and noble. And I do love him for that. Merlin, I do. But it’s not what I’m after now.

“Simon…” He’s pulling away from me.

I let him.

I can’t see him that well. My eyes are only human, and it’s dark as hell out here. But I can make him out a bit. I can see that his hair is all fucked up.

“Stop being a nice guy,” I tell him.

I can see that he’s frowning.

“Be the old Baz for a little while, yeah?” I grab the front of his shirt and yank him towards me. “Distract me.” I grab his jaw and lick his mouth. “Please, Baz. Just make me feel good.”

Before I know what’s happening his hands are on my hips and my back is pressed up against the stone wall. He’s kissing me like he means to give me exactly what I’m gagging for.

He didn’t know how to kiss the first time we did it. I was his first, and I’ll be his last. This, the way his mouth moves against mine now, that’s all me. He learned from me.

I grab his arse and pull him into me. He’s always so easy to rile up after a big feed, and today is no exception. He’s like a rock digging into the fly of my trousers. It hurts a little, and I’ve barely even registered that thought before he’s wedging a hand between us and popping the button open.

“I’m gonna touch you, yeah?” he breathes into my ear, and my skin erupts in chills.

I nod emphatically, tilting my head to the side, giving him as much of my neck as I can. I know he likes to lick the mole I’ve got there on the right side.

“Should we go upstairs?” he asks.

“No, fuck no.” I tug myself out of my pants. “Need you now. Here.”

His hand is cool as it wraps around my cock.

**Baz**

Simon Snow doesn’t need magic. He’s still fire. He’s still so alive. He throbs in my hand. I can feel the rhythm of his pulse in my palm as I squeeze him.

He hisses, dropping his head back against the wall. I lick the mole on his neck and revel in the sharp salty flavour of his skin. It’s only because I hunted in the Wood and drank about twice as much as I usually do that my fangs don’t pop. It’s not his blood I want to drain tonight.

Sex with Simon is nothing like my old fantasies. I never had the imagination to conjure anything as hot as the reality. The sounds he makes, the way everything I make him feel is telegraphed perfectly on his face. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed.

But it’s never been like _this_. It’s never been desperate. He’s never begged for it.

I do feel a bit like the old Baz. The Baz who felt completely unhinged by his desire for a person he was meant to hate. We don’t pretend to hate each other anymore, but nothing about the way I’ve got him pinned to the wall is soft or romantic or any of the things present day Baz tries to be when he sleeps with Simon Snow. There’s a whisper of that old tension in the way I’m wanking him fast and rough, the way he’s growling my name like a curse.

Then I hear them: footsteps coming down the stairs, and they’re close. I was so distracted that I forgot to be on my guard.

And yet, even now, I don’t want to stop. I swipe my thumb over the head and it comes away slick and sticky. He groans, and I slip my wand down my sleeve and cast **Nothing to see here** around us.

“Baz, what—” he asks, just as the ancient creaky door to Mummer’s starts to open.

I clap my hand over his mouth and press my lips to his ear. “Shut up, Snow.”

**Simon**

There’s someone stood not more than a few metres away from us, having a fag while Baz holds his hand over my mouth and fucks his fist over me relentlessly.

I’m making noise against his palm. I can’t help it. I also don’t care. I don’t know that Baz really does either. He’s started humping me a bit, and he’s biting the meaty bit of my shoulder.

I don’t know how he’s managing that without his fangs popping. I’m too wound up to care.

I don’t know who the late night smoker is. I can’t see them well enough in the darkness to make out any distinguishing features.

I don’t know why the fact that we’re basically having sex in front of someone else is making me feel like I’m about to explode. In a good way.

There are a lot of things I don’t know. But there’s one thing I do, and that’s that I’m definitely going to come before this bloke finishes his cigarette.

I don’t think I’m particularly loud when I’m having an orgasm, but I reckon I’m not all that quiet either. I haven’t had enough practice yet. Agatha and I never got anywhere close to touching each other, and wanking was something I kept on the list of things not to think about. Probably because I would have been thinking about Baz while I did it, and I wasn’t ready to face that truth yet.

Baz is proper humping me now, grinding himself against my hip while still managing to stroke me off like it’s his mission in life to drive me absolutely mental. I suppose it probably is. And he’s doing a damn good job of it. I’m definitely not in my right mind.

Which is why I don’t even think about biting back the moan that escapes me as I finally spill over his long white fingers. The sound is muffled by Baz’s other hand, but it’s still clearly audible.

Two things happen then:

Baz comes, squeezing my mouth so hard it hurts my jaw as he shudders through his orgasm.

And the bloke with the fag dangling from his lips turns in our direction. “Oi. Who’s there?” he says. All I can see of him is the vague silhouette of a person and the glowing red cherry of his cigarette.

I have no bones left in my body. The air smells like sex and tobacco.

“Your fucking mum,” Baz says out loud in his iciest voice, and I’m truly impressed at his composure mere moments after climax. “Fuck off or I’ll tell Headmistress Bunce you’re hoarding Marlboros.”

There’s a beat of silence, then: “Pitch? Is that you?”

Baz is so cool. He’s still holding my softening cock in his hand and he just came in his pants, but he’s no less in control than ever. “I told you, it’s your mum. Now, like I said, kindly fuck off.”

The bloke takes one last drag and then flicks the cigarette away from him. It fizzles out in grass that’s wet with dew. “Alright, Crowley. I’m going.”

As soon as he’s gone, we both burst out laughing.

**Baz**

Simon smells filthy and sweet. I think I’m feeling emboldened enough to get on my knees and clean him up with my mouth, but he tucks himself back into his trousers before I get a chance, then chases my disappointment with a deep wet kiss.

“You’re bloody incredible,” he says.

I don’t feel it. Yet again I’ve demonstrated such an utter lack of stamina that I couldn’t even pull myself out of my trousers before succumbing to the maddening aphrodisiac that is being allowed to touch the most intimate parts of Simon’s body.

“I’m bloody knackered,” I counter. “And I need a shower. Badly.”

“Yeah. Me too.” His voice is dreamy, warm, sated. “Can we do it together?”

All the strings in my heart are tugged. “Crowley, yes.” I wipe my hand on my shirt and take his hand. “Are you alright, Snow?”

He smiles at me. “Yeah. I am now.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to mandy for the prompt <3


End file.
